


The First Lesson

by chatonnerie



Category: League of Legends
Genre: Definitely inspired by the last lore story, Lessons, Other, Smol Jarv, Smol Jarvan is curious, Sort of Philosophy? Not sure if it quite counts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-22
Updated: 2019-03-22
Packaged: 2019-11-27 20:05:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18198713
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chatonnerie/pseuds/chatonnerie
Summary: Xin Zhao has been a guard for King Jarvan III for a little while now.The King's son finally musters up the courage to ask a few questions.





	The First Lesson

The day the little prince finally approached him alone was quite noncommittal. Xin Zhao was leaning against the soaring white battlements of the Citadel of Light, gazing at the immense city below, fascinated.

Raikkon was a small village, and while it had been lively, he would never associate the same such vibrant _bustle_ that trickled through Demacia’s streets, markets and parades, every single citizen having a task to do and people to see.

He had just been thinking of heading back inside, after all, despite not matching the daily scorch of Noxus (he had never quite understood how a city with such a climate could still favour _black_ and _crowded_ asan ideal aesthetic) it still was proud enough to send sweat trickling down his temples, when he heard the quiet pitter patter of little feet aiming to avoid detection.

“Good day, Your Majesty,” he spoke to the sky, not turning his attention, trying not to smile as the footsteps stopped abruptly, “all alone today?”  
The bright blue eyes peeked out from behind their chosen shelter, one of the guard towers that led off the battlements. Xin Zhao remained as he was, leaning against the mightily carved stone, as non threatening as possible.

“My guards were in a meeting with father, and the tutor was late.” the small voice piped up, “I got bored sitting around.”  
“And is your presence here deliberate or merely a consequence of this boredom?”  
He was met with an awkward silence and he stepped back, posture welcoming.

“Would you like to come forward? I much prefer speaking to a face, even when competing against such an interesting wall.”  
With the eyes came the small, round pale face, black locks flopping about like a mop.

Cautiously, the prince approached him and Xin Zhao just leant back against the brick.

“Might I be of assistance?” he asked, deciding to get the ball rolling. It would be not good for this child to be out alone for too long, and no one every learnt anything through tense silences.

“You’re from Ionia, right?” the prince asked, bright eyed, “What’s it like? I’ve always wanted to go! Father says I’m too young to leave the Kingdom, but he leaves _all the time_ and Garen, umm, my friend, he’s Lady Tiana’s nephew, he sometimes gets to ride out beyond the borders with his family and I’m _stuck_ here!”  
He exhaled mightily after his rant and Xin Zhao just looked on, amused.

“What makes you think I’m from Ionia?” he asked, sly, “It is true I was born there, but the majority of my memories are from Noxus, where I have spent most of my life. That might be more like home. Then again, I feel more at home here in Demacia, within my short time being here, than I ever did in Noxus.”

Jarvan gaped at him, swallowing, “Oh, umm, I mean, I just thought-“ he broke off as the spearman chuckled.

“I am speaking in jest. My memories of Ionia, her hidden pools, ancient secrets, and even monuments sung by the vastaya, are old. But not too old that I can’t compare them to my present.”  
He turned, pointing through the battlements to the expansive white forests lining the world beyond the City Walls.

“Take for instance, these trees. Here in Demacia, one is cut down and splintered and refined, before being fashioned into blanks and rafters and carvings. Meanwhile in Ionia, it is much more simple to ask the tree.”  
“Ask a tree?” the prince repeated, disbelieving and Xin Zhao nodded.

“Quite so. The trees of Ionia will become quite indignant if you try to use them without permission, dropping dead insects and tripping you with roots and such. Far better to simply ask politely, and then the tree might even be so gracious as to grow into your desired shape without any work on your own part. Many house in Eastern Ionia are entirely formed by the trees.”  
“That sounds phoney,” Jarvan responded, self-assured and Xin Zhao held up his hands innocently.

“Perhaps. But do Demacians not also communicate as a means of woodwork?”  
The prince blinked, lost, and he took a step back.

“Maybe not with the trees here, but one man cannot cut down a tree on his own - he must rally a team to help him craft it, then contact artisans to properly cure and shape it, and finally customers to buy it. Is it so hard to believe that some people ask the tree as much as their surroundings?”  
Jarvan’s eyes had begun to shine slightly leaning. As Xin Zhao paused, he let out a longer sigh.

“I want to go one day!” he declared, as he leant precariously forward, gaze distant as the sea breeze whipped back his hair, “I want to see the hidden pools! And learn how to talk to trees!”  
Xin Zhao oh so carefully intervened, placing a hand on the young child’s shoulder in case he _did_ lean too far.

His smile tweaked, slightly sad, “I’m sure they would love you. Unfortunately, that day may not come.”  
Jarvan paused, slumping and pouting at him. “What? Why not?!”

Xin Zhao thought for a moment, wondering how to phrase it. His connections to this child were brief, often stifled by countless other guards. He knew the King took more interest in him than most, and was even tentatively beginning the relationship he had with his newly sworn master as a friendship - but it could be said that the prince was more heavily guarded than the King himself. He was constantly swarming with guards and tutors, if he wasn’t at the King’s own hand. As such, Xin Zhao may have a tentative friendship with the King, but that did not equal approaching his one and only son.

Yet the prince was rumoured amongst the barracks to already be startlingly intelligent, quick witted and as absorbent of knowledge as a sponge was to water. So maybe . . .

He exhaled, “Are you aware that Noxus is currently at war with Ionia?”  
“Oh yes, I learnt about that!” Jarvan tapped his palms against the stone, “Noxus invaded the Ionian archipelago, with the intention of annexing it.”

All very big concepts to come out of a small boy’s mouth, but his eyes were bright with understanding, not memorisation, so Xin Zhao forged on.  
“Correct on all accounts,” he inclined his head and the small child beamed, “does that answer your question?”  
Jarvan’s beam faltered and he thought, rather visibly hard, for a brief moment, before shaking his head.

“But Demacia could go and help them!” he insisted, leaning over to pout his point across to the spearman, “Father told me that Demacians protect the weak, those who can’t protect themselves! So we should go to Ionia!”  
“And what, little prince, do you think that Ionia would want that?” he asked pointedly, “the first time it has encountered a foreign country, it has experienced the most gruesome conflict ever on its shores. Why should it have any reason to want another on its shores?”  
Jarvan rolled his eyes, “But it’s _Noxus_ ,” he responded, voice childishly exasperated with how obvious the answer was, “all they want is war. Demacia’s much better! We have honour and bravery and-!”

“And does Ionia know, and would it care?” Xin Zhao carefully interrupted.

Jarvan went to speak before pausing and frowning furiously.

“. . . Maybe?” he hedged an answer and Xin Zhao actually grinned, ruffling the dark locks under impulse.

As Jarvan squawked, batting away the hand, he considered his words.

“Do you know the name of my homeland?” he asked and Jarvan frowned.

“Ionia. Obviously- oh, did you mean specifically? Raikkon right?” he puffed out, proud.

Xin Zhao chuckled, “My village was Raikkon, yes, but the land I come from is not strictly ‘Ionia’.”  
Jarvan opened his mouth and then just frowned, “What? I mean, Pardon?”

“Where I come from, it is Yi Guojia, in the north it is Saisho no Toshi, other places it is Meonjeo. Many names, one meaning - the First Lands. It is said that when the gods made the world, they called forth Ionia first, and chose it as the place to settle, before moving on to create the distant lands. It is the most ancient culture in Runeterra, a land where spirits and beasts have just as much claim to nature as the mortals. It is perfectly preserved, unchanged from its very beginning.”

“Oh.”

Jarvan’s eyes were huge, “ _Really_? Have you seen a spirit?”  
“Not personally,” he sent the younger a sly smile, “though supposedly an aunt met a member of the Kinkou Order - a secret group who can travel to the spirit realm.”  
Jarvan squeaked and Xin Zhao settled him down with a hand to the shoulder.

“Now. Do you know the history of Demacia?”  
Jarvan’s excitement died in astounding time, his shoulders slumping, “Yes, I know it. I have to read it soo many times a day, it’s _boring_.”  
“Maybe, but you are Demacian, and a lesson is meaningless if you cannot apply it to your own life,” Xin Zhao gestured grandly, “so, if you would?”  
Jarvan rolled his eyes, “In the upheaval of the Rune War, refugees all fled west because there was rumours of a land without magic. The six great families united with Orlon, and together, they constructed the White City, immune from all mages who would do it and the people harm. After which the Lightshield family, the biggest, was crowned Royal, and the remaining five became the Noble Houses.”  
“Which are?”  
Jarvan gagged at him and he snickered, “A jest, I’m sure you know them.”  
The little prince gave a small indignant cry at that, folding his arms, all terrible and ferocious. “Is this pointless?”  
“Of course not,” he pointed a finger importantly in the air, “now, from that history, what can you tell me about Demacian culture? And try to stick to the history, not your own knowledge.”  
Jarvan hmphed, still slightly put out, “Mages are evil.”  
Xin Zhao sighed, and flicked the little one’s head, ignoring the surprised squawk, “I was hoping for something more insightful.”

Jarvan puffed out his cheeks, but nevertheless thought hard, “Well, Demacia values all its citizens equally - it was founded by refugees coming together, not a single figure conquering everyone. Oh, also, that people who are persecuted should be welcomed! Because the founders were all victims of the Rune War.”  
“Much better,” he nodded, “now why don’t we look at Noxus instead?”  
Jarvan’s face fell, “ _Why_?”  
“Because Demacia is but a few hundred years old, whereas Noxus is closer to one thousand, yet maintains an equally strong belief set.”

Xin Zhao smiled at the indignation that comment called, “So? What do you know?”  
Jarvan huffed, “There were a bunch of warring tribes and then this evil conqueror rounded them all up and built the immortal Bastion. Then he died, and everyone’s been killing each other for power since.”  
“Crude but adequate.” Xin Zhao caught his eye, carefully, “Now, if your history was built on war, if the only war to achieve power was violence, if you were raised in a city built upon the spoils of violence, and taught that too lose was to be weak and the weak were killed, would you perhaps develop into an Empire hyper fixated on war and violence?”  
Jarvan shrunk slightly, “. . . Maybe-I mean, yes.” he corrected himself quickly at Xin Zhao’s raised eyebrow.

“But I don’t see what this has to do with Ionia!” he instead shifted, almost stamping his foot to redirect the conversation. Xin Zhao nodded his head.

“Very well. I would hope that my point about history feeding current society has been made? In that case, what can you imagine a society, or thousands of collective societies, rather, that has remained unchanged since its very founding might act? What would _it_ value, the same way Demacia values its people and Noxus its violence?”  
Jarvan pondered it for more than a minute, very carefully and cautiously, “. . . keeping things the same?”  
“Correct,” he inclined his head and the young prince beamed, “Ionia has long valued the preservation of its history and the teachings of those who come before - it has one of the longest recorded histories as a result. It is not an uncommon principle - even here, His Majesty himself teaches you what he has both been taught, and experienced for himself, instead of leaving you with no guidance. But can you think of how that way of thinking might be a double-edged blade?”

He waited, the sun encroaching the distant line of the ocean’s end, as the young prince thought, before eventually shaking his head, embarrassed.

“i mean . . . that’s how we learn, right? From our teachers?”

  
“Indeed,” he folded his arms, “but many forget that _all_ may be a teacher. Both an elder to a young one, _and_ a young one to an elder. A society that focuses only on preserving what has come before, blinds itself to the possibilities of the future. Many times diplomats ventured to Ionia’s shores, and all those times they were chased away. Why should Ionia welcome foreigners when the First Lands provide everything they need? What could these strangers offer to them that they do not have?”

He sighed, “If you remember anything from this, Your Majesty, it is that no matter how small the reward, there is always value in knowledge. Had Ionia welcomed diplomats and traders, Noxus wouldn’t have decided to claim everything for itself. Had Ionia shown interest in its naval neighbours, it might have learnt Noxus was an Empire built on conquest and taken measures to defend itself. It may have even reached out to other nations for assistance.” He sighed, “Instead, it was caught, completely unguarded, blinded by the faith of the old that as long as they didn’t change, nothing ever would. And now all Ionians have learnt the cost of such blind faith - and violence has come to a society that valued harmony above all things.”

  
Jarvan was silent, listening, eyes wide, beside him, uncaring of the evening breeze coming in the tails of the setting sun, raising the hairs on their arms.

Xin Zhao tilted his head, resting his elbows on the stone wrought from the unity of countless individuals instead of a single technique passed down a single, fragile line, “Now, little prince, does _that_ answer your question?”  
Jarvan thought, carefully, “. . . Ionia had to learn what foreigners meant. And because they first associated that with war, they’ve learnt to connect foreigners to conflict. If Demacia were to arrive, they might be mistaken for further conflict.”

“Very good,” Xin Zhao inclined his head, “a lesson well understood.”  
The prince flushed, pleased, before sobering slightly. “Do you . . . do you really think I’ll never go?”  
Xin Zhao sighed, tipping his head back to the peach hewn sun set sky, “Well that entirely depends - on who triumphs in the war, on what parts of Ionia rise up, and what parts endure. Will those parts be under Noxian rule, or remain independent? And will they want to seek out the lands beyond their shores?”  
He sent the little prince a half hearted smile, “However, that sounds like an entirely different lesson. And we have been out here long enough. I wouldn’t want you to be immediately subject to any more of your guardians anxieties.”  
Jarvan flushed, groaning slightly, “They’re not going to be happy, are they?” he mumbled and Xin Zhao shook his head, beginning to walk towards the nearest guard tower, the prince moving to follow at his heels.

“No, they will not. Do you regret coming up here?”  
Jarvan pursed his lips. “No. I don’t. It was a lot more interesting to hear about your home.”  
“Then maybe you could tell them what you have learnt today,” Xin Zhao offered, “you have as much potential to be a teacher as they.”  
The prince turned to him all wide eyed, as they opened the doors and beginning to walk down the stairs, returning to the inside of the Keep.

“Umm . . . Shin Jaw?” he asked, nervously, “can I . . . come talk to you again?”  
Xin Zhao smiled down at him, “I would be most honoured, Prince Jarvan. And it’s Xin Zhao.”

The child beamed, with all the brightness of youth, trotting down the steps no doubt in search of his guardians.

(And if he was butchering the pronunciation of Xin Zhao’sname, that he had oh so subtly stressed, as the little feet went, well, it was cute enough that he might overlook it for a little while)

**Author's Note:**

> So I read Xin Zhao's lore story and immediately craved to write something BECAUSE SMOL JARV!! Smol Jarv meeting Xin Zhao! Xin Zhao teaching smol jarv about the world beyond Demacia! [Redacted for Length]
> 
> I wrote this in an hour and it has some stuff verging way to hard into philosophy to make my brain not fried.
> 
> But I've been in a bit of a writing pothole, and this was the perfect thing to get my typing fingers kickstarted!
> 
> Updates for 'Jarvan and Shyvana deal with shitty weather (and dragons)' might be a bit delayed, because I am being punished for my hubris and am currently swallowed under a pile of assessments (send helpppp)
> 
> Much love to all who read this far!


End file.
